


over, under, and through

by ErinNovelist



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Big Brother Shiro Done Wrong, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, It's All Shiro's Fault, Just a giant friends au, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, oblivious idiots, poor oblivious keith, poor unsuspecting lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9862814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinNovelist/pseuds/ErinNovelist
Summary: "So let me tell you something, pretty boy, I am over you. You hear that? I am over you. I am so over you. And that, my friend, is what they call closure."Keith furrowed his eyebrows, staring at the phone in his hand. "You're over me?" Lance paled, eyes widening as his teammate played back the recording. "You're...overme? When were you...underme?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This lovely (and long overdue) story is for the fabulous [blackroseassasin](http://blackroseassasin.tumblr.com/). Happy Valentines Day, love. Hope you get all the wonderful things you deserve. Also, I learned what a fabulous artist she was, and please, please, please check out her amazing artwork.

 

Of all the members on team Voltron, Keith and Lance had the least in common.

Lance was from a small town near the shores of Varadero where the sun kissed the waves along the windy coastline as he stood on the beach, cool breeze ruffling his hair and seagull cries whistling past his ears like a lullaby.

It was a small piece of paradise nestled between the sand and sea, and his home for his whole life—the perfect slice of heaven. He would’ve stayed there forever if he could, but his heart yearned for the open sky where stars twinkled above instead of the open ocean where creatures swam below.

Keith grew up in a rundown house in southern Texas that sunk into the ground every time it rained with a sun-soaked garden and a cracked driveway. He lived with an absent mother and a dad who tried his best, who used to take him on the hover bike through the desert where the police never patrolled, stirring up dust and dirt behind them as they rode. It tickled his nose and caked the back of his throat, and afterwards he’d spend long hours trying to just breathe.

It was worth it though, for the days spent happy and safe, until his dad died when he was nine. He would’ve given anything to keep things the same, but he was forced to start searching for some place to call home, driving down a long, winding road with only the stars across the dark night to guide him.

Lance was a people person. Even back at the Garrison, everyone knew it. Whenever Lance McClain entered the room, suave and confident, with charming words dripping like syrup from his lips, they stopped to take notice. People fell in love with Lance’s charisma, his magnetic pull, and electric smile. He made everyone feel like they knew him, like each held a piece of who he was, and he was a sea they swam in. But the truth was, the sea needed the fish—else it was just a lonely body of water that no one cared about.

Keith chose to be alone. He believed in the notion that living with your greatest fear made it hurt less when you had to finally face it. He’d been living with it for a very long time, through all the different foster homes and group homes, to a point that it was almost impossible for him to remember what it felt to be close to someone. The select few that sought to prove him wrong were the ones privileged enough to _know_ him, all sharp wit and bright eyes. But people had a habit of leaving him, and the Garrison wasn’t anyone different. It was easier to be alone.

Lance was dynamic and dramatic. Keith was instinctive and introverted.  

Keith’s favorite color was red because he liked it. Lance’s was blue because it reminded him of home.

Lance talked non-stop. Keith’s words had a purpose.

Lance was loud and intuitive. Keith was quiet and reactive.

Lance was like water, and Keith was like fire. But they could never go together because water put fire out, and fire made water boil.

Lance thought Keith was his rival, always trying to outdo every accomplishment he achieved. Keith thought Lance was positively insane, always trying to pick fights just to make himself feel better. Lance thought Keith was out to get him, and Keith just wanted a friend.

While it was true that they had their many differences, there were also a few choice similarities between them. Both were passionate and protective, willing to put everything on the line if it meant keeping those they loved safe from harm. A fierce loyalty and sense of determination brewed within them, desperate and raw as they fumbled across the universe with a rag-tag team of aliens and magical space robot lions. They had a drive to succeed—strived to survive and thrive.

Each gave so much until almost nothing was left. Lance was the ocean—ebbing with the tide, carving new grooves into the earth like a devastating mudslide. He adapted and filled each crevice he could, melting into life with ease, until the sun came along and dried him up. Keith was a supernova, caged in a body of bone and ash, where only a few could look at him without being blinded with his afterimage on the back of their eyelids. He was born to shine for all of eternity, a ball of hot, white fire deep in space that gave life and warmth to those who needed it, until his core finally burned out.

Whatever their differences and similarities, it was important to remember that, above all else, Lance and Keith were teammates. They lived together, fought together, survived together. Even at the worst of times, when tempers were alit and hatred and vitriol were spewed as like a dragon spitting fire, they still managed to cool the rage to a simmer. Even at the best of times, though few and far between, they still shared many arguments, but they could put them aside to bear the burden of being defenders of the universe. Nothing—no matter what reared its ugly head, no matter what obstacle tried to hinder them—could stand in their way when it came to Voltron.

But neither expected matters of the heart to come into play.

You see, Lance and Keith were many things—opposites, rivals, teammates, and even _friends_ at times—but boyfriends and… _lovers_ were never even considered.

It was never even a possibility.

But, then again, at the time they made these declarations, they’d only been in space and each other’s lives for a little over three months, and love generally required time. What’s to say the seeds weren’t planted in the very beginning and were finally ready to bloom?

Whatever else this turned out to be, it was important to remember that Lance and Keith never set out to fall in love with each other.

But fate had a funny way of making things happen.

*** 

It was important to remember that Lance McClain didn’t fall in love very _neatly_. Falling in love was always sort of a chaotic mess for him.

Fleeting crushes, slight obsessions, and overwhelming infatuations were the more politically correct terms to use. Actually… falling fit the bill better than all of them because he truly tumbled head over heels when it came to matters of the heart—it’d been that way since he was a kid. He always gave too much and got too little in return; all he had was rejection when it counted. It was like every time he tripped over a pretty boy’s bright smile and stumbled at the sight of a pretty girl’s kind eyes, he ended up falling too hard and too fast, jarring his heart on impact, and he was left with nothing but a bruised and abused ribcage.

That didn’t make him second guess every flirt or line he dropped though.

No, Lance was certainly not used to falling in love very easily. Even with his history of heartbreak, nothing was going to stop him from making the same mistake again. It usually started with a simple glance, and then his heart belonged in the hands of a pretty stranger.

Which was why it scared him when he realized it was Keith Kogane.

Keith wasn’t someone Lance ever imagined he’d fall for. It wasn’t the usual chaos that ensued whenever he laid eyes on a pretty stranger—this time, the feeling came upon him thick and slow, candlewax dripping down the side of a candelabra. It was unexpected, sneaking up on him without warning, like a predator stalking its prey.

They were sitting in the rec room, lounging across the couches as some nameless movie Pidge had smuggled across the universe on her laptop droned on mindlessly in the background. Coran had found a television—or the Altean equivalent—in one of the storage rooms in the lower bowels of the castle, digging it out in hopes to learn more about the Earth culture of the five paladins. Hunk and Pidge had gutted the entire device, reprogramming it to handle the computer files, and the next thing Lance knew, Family Move Night had become a Thing™ (capitalized, trademarked, fuck you very much, Shiro) thanks to Shiro and Allura’s kink for team bonding.

Currently, Lance thought that some sort of animated Disney movie was playing, but he couldn’t care less which one it was. Pidge and Hunk were camped out on the floor in a pile of blankets and bubblegum pink alien popcorn balls that tasted oddly of cotton candy and pineapple; Lance had taken to using the back of Pidge’s head as a dartboard, and she hadn’t seemed to notice. So far, he’d landed four of them in her messy nest of hair. Allura and Shiro were nestled together in the love seat across from the television, Allura buried against Shiro’s shoulder as he stole glimpses at her face every so often, a soft expression adjourning his face. Coran, on the other hand, was oddly invested in the movie as he propped his chin in his hands and gazed longingly at the screen, and if Lance strained his ears enough, he could hear a chorus of sniffles and whimpers from the Altean whenever the music swelled.

As he turned to look at Keith, who’d unfortunately been sentenced to sit next to Lance since he’d arrived to Family Movie Night™ late, a sudden weight settled on his shoulder. Lance stiffened, his back whipping ram-rod straight at the touch of his teammate, as he hadn’t expected Keith to be so close. Even after three months together, the two weren’t exactly the closest, and Lance wasn’t sure they could be called friends even on the good days. He cast Keith a wary glance, almost as if he expected the other man to jump him with a knife (which only happened once, and though Lance loathed to admit it, he should have listened to Shiro when advised not to ambush Keith in the haunted hallways least he wanted a sword to the throat).

Keith rested his head in the crook of Lance’s neck, tilted away from the screen and buried in the fabric of his red jacket. The flickering light of the movie cast a glow over his face, the soft purple of his eyelids stark against his pale skin, speaking of long nights awake and alone in the training room, which Lance could attest to, as he’d caught his teammate numerous times during his nightly wanderings, locked in combat with the Castle gladiator. Hot puffs of air tickled Lance as Keith slumbered on, soft breathes ghosting across his cheek and ruffling his bangs.

 _Did…_ Lance cocked his head, studying Keith closely. Did Keith _fall asleep_ on him?

Dark hair laying flat against his forehead, light snores whistling past Lance’s ear, Keith slumbered away, completely lost to the world, and all Lance could think was, _Please don’t drool on me._

As if on cue, his snoring, snoozing, _drooling_ teammate stirred slightly, letting his arm fall into Lance’s lap with a soft groan, and Lance could only manage to stare in confusion. He looked exhausted, Lance noticed, noting that the dark bags under Keith’s eyes were even heavier up close. His first instinct had been to prod Keith awake, but the longer he stared, the more Lance realized that this might have been the most sleep that Keith had had all week—which said something, when the resident insomniac (read: Lance) had to comment on your sleeping habits.

Sighing to himself, Lance settled back into the couch cushions, sparing Keith one last bemused glance, and begrudgingly accepted his role as a pillow for the duration of Family Movie Night™. As a part-time gig, it wasn’t half bad. Keith’s snoring was kept to a minimum, and when Pidge finally noticed her two teammates cuddling ( _sitting next to each other, Pidge, we’re not cuddling, you little gremlin_ ), she respectively refrained from making a comment to avoid waking Keith. Allura and Shiro didn’t gawk too much, choosing to stare longingly at _each other_ (when the other wasn’t looking because both seemed to think the hard-to-get mindset would help them score) instead of Lance and Keith. Coran was too engrossed in the movie to even notice.

Hunk was the only one Lance wanted to murder by the end of the night, flashing him the periodic thumbs up throughout the entire ordeal like a proud parent. Lance wanted to wring his neck, which was saying something, as Hunk was his best bro. 

It would probably go something like this:

 

Hunk: *thumbs up*  
Lance: Hunk, what the hell, man?!  
Hunk: Way to score, buddy.  
Lance: *sputtering* H-Hunk, it’s Keith!  
Hunk: I know! You never shut up about him. To tell you the truth, I was beginning to think you’d never tell him how you felt.  
Lance: I do not like Keith!  
Hunk: Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. Hey, can I be the best man at the wedding?  
Lance: *dead*

 

Because let’s be honest, no matter what Hunk had done, there would never be any circumstance where Lance could tear him a new one.

The whole situation left Lance dumbfounded though. What would lead Hunk to believe he felt that way about Keith? The idea was strictly and utterly _preposterous._ Keith would sooner chain him to an asteroid as it passed by, waving with a bright smile as it shot off towards the furthest unknowns of the distant cosmos, than kiss him, or hold him, or harbor an ultra-secret crush for him that no one but Shiro would know about. Lance would be willing to be that Keith would feel the same way about cuddling ( _sleeping, god damn it, Pidge, now you got me starting it_ ), and when he finally woke up, it’d be in a flurry of flailing limbs and muted horror as he scrambled away from Lance and into the nearest scalding shower to cleanse his body of Lance’s touch.

(Keith in a shower…not a bad mental picture. Not bad at all.)

When the movie finally ended, and the rest of the team meandered out of the rec room, Lance stared at Keith as he wondered whether he should wake the guy up or just leave him on the couch. Either way, someone would be pissed tomorrow morning, as this couch would give anyone a serious kink in their neck after just a short nap. While Keith could be particularly infuriating on a good day, Lance wouldn’t sentence anyone to a night on the couch.

With a soft sigh, Lance tried to gently extract himself from Keith’s side, but as he leaned forward, attempting to slip out from Keith’s loose embrace, a warm hand settled on his other shoulder.

Shiro stood behind him, tall form bent over the couch as he rested his elbows on the edge, a picture-perfect look of ease. He had never thought he’d use the word _soft_ to describe the team leader, but the way Shiro looked at Lance and Keith— _soft_ eyes and a _soft_ smile—that alone spoke volumes.

“Thank you,” Shiro said, voice pitched low to avoid waking Keith (which was honestly very counterproductive as that was what Lance was _trying_ to do). “I mean it. I’m really proud of you.”

Lance’s eyebrows flew high, kissing heaven and all the deities in the sky at Shiro’s unexpected praise. “What?” he asked, twisting his body around to face Shiro.

Keith groaned at the sudden change in position, shifting slightly as he snuggled closer to Lance’s body and snuck an arm around his waist. Warm hand pressing against his thin, cotton shirt, Lance squirmed at the heat radiating off the other paladin. _Jesus taco tits, this boy was a portable space heater!_

(Boy, Keith sure was a cuddler. Lance filed away that information for later, though what he would do with, he certainly had no idea. Blackmail was an option, ruin that squeaky emo-clean image Keith tried to put forth, but he didn’t think anyone would believe him if he tried.)

Shiro’s shoulder shook in quiet bemusement as he chuckled to himself. “You’re really good for him, Lance. Keith needs someone like you.” 

“What d’you mean by that?” Frowning, Lance narrowed his eyes in confusion because, last he checked, Keith couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him on most days. Both knew which buttons to push to invoke the strongest reaction, seeming to take great pride in whoever could set off the biggest flame and spark the grandest, supernovae explosion. “He has you… Doesn’t he?”

(Because, if Lance had to be fucking honest, if Keith lost Shiro _again_ , he didn’t know what would happen. Last time Shiro disappeared, Keith got expelled from the Garrison. If Shiro were to ever leave again… Lance didn’t think Keith would even survive.)

Shiro schooled his features into a blank expression, shutters falling over his eyes, and Lance was taken back by the sudden change. It was clear, however, that Shiro’s thoughts had strayed onto the same path as his, and both recognized what might happen if something were ever to _happen_ to Shiro—the Black Paladin might not be the only teammate they’d lose. It was stupid to assume nothing could touch them even if they were Voltron; piloting the universe’s greatest weapon only made the target on their backs even bigger. The probability of them dying out in space was higher than them _surviving._  

(Lance had to stop. Anymore thoughts on the matter might trigger something he couldn’t come back from.)

“Keith doesn’t…” Shiro crossed his arms against his chest, sighing as he stood upright. “It takes him a while to get close to someone; he doesn’t trust a lot of people.”

Lance snorted. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

“What I’m saying is that I’m glad you’re there for him.” Shiro flashed him a quick smile. “When he told me he liked you, I didn’t—”

_What?_

“—think it’d be reciprocated. Not to say that I thought you hated him—”

_Hold the fucking phone._

“—but you two never seemed to get along, and you always push each other’s buttons—”

_Shiro, what the fuck are you on?!_

“—and I was worried about you two being friends, let alone boy—" 

“What are you talking about?” Lance gasped out, arms and legs flailing wildly as he twisted around in his seat to face Shiro completely. Keith let out a low groan, arm slung across Lance’s waist, holding him with an impressive vice grip, but he still refused to wake up. Lance felt himself clutching Keith’s shirt as if it was the only thing grounding him to the castle, otherwise he’d go spinning out of orbit.

Shiro furrowed his eyebrows together in a quizzical expression. “What—?”

“Since when does Keith _like_ me?!”

Shiro raised his arms, hands outstretched, as if to calm Lance. “Now, hold on a sec—”

“Since when are Keith and I _together?_ ” Lance’s world was turning slippery now as he tried to hold onto what little reality he could anchor himself to.

Shiro’s eyes were wide, and if they got any bigger, Lance was scared his eyeballs would roll out. _Feel free to be scared, man_ , Lance thought, _I’m scared too._ Seeming to realize his mistake, Shiro began to turn on his heel, ready to flee at a moment’s notice, but Lance grabbed his elbow before he could bolt. Nails digging into the grooves on his metal arm, he stared down his leader, and Shiro paled under his scrutinizing gaze.

_That’s right, my dude. You done messed up—big time._

Lance opened his mouth to ask another question, and that was when Shiro acted. Hand whipping to _Lance’s_ elbow, he pressed down and broke his grip on the metal arm, twisting the wrist back until a sharp slice of pain shot up to Lance’s shoulder. Without waiting to see if Lance was alright, Shiro proceeded to get the fuck out of dodge before Lance could ask him anymore questions.

Lance was left on the couch, staring at the spot Shiro once vacated, mouth ajar and holding his hand to his chest as pain still throbbed through the joint. Meanwhile, Keith was still fast sleep, snoring lightly against Lance, completely oblivious to the secrets that had just been divulged. Lance cast a glance over his shoulder and stared at his teammate, looking so young and so vulnerable in a way that being awake could never accomplish, the burdens and trauma that were usually painted across his face was erased the moment he closed his eyes.

_Since when does Keith like me?_

He stilled for a few moments, simply watching Keith sleep. The way his chest rose and fell like a swelling symphony, the light breathes ghosting over his neck, and the quiet murmurs that would fall from his lips from time to time… It was all too much for Lance to handle.

_Since when does Keith like me?_

The question tumbled through his head, and Lance wasn’t sure what to do with it. There were a few truths in his life, things that were absolute and never changing.

 

  1. Pidge hid in the air vents above the Black Lion’s hangar whenever Shiro set out to make sure she was in bed at a decent time. He’d never think to look in a place he’d most likely be, so long as he harbored the idea that Pidge tried to get as far away from him as possible during those times. (This made for excellent blackmail material, and currently Lance had a leg up on Pidge—until she got something better on him, and let’s be honest, it usually always happened).  
  

  2. Hunk stress-baked. During the long nights that were too hard or too painful to endure, he’d sneak out to the kitchen and make masterpieces from whatever alien ingredients he could get his hands on. Cooking was an integral part of him, as Lance had discovered in the time they’d known each other, and while he was slowly opening to the team about his hobbies, it was _absolutely hilarious_ to watch Shiro baffle over where the space cookies were coming from—even though Coran was adamant he had nothing to with them.  
  

  3. Allura and Coran were aliens. That what all Lance could say.  
  

  4. Shiro never slept. He might catch a few hours on the couch during some bonding time or doze at the dinner table on occasion, but he never slept a full night cycle in his bedroom. Lance had caught him often in the training room in the middle of the night, locked in combat with the gladiator until the early hours of the morning. (Sometimes, Lance would pass by his door on the nights Shiro _tried_ to sleep and only hear the echoing screams Shiro _tried_ to muffle with his pillow. If Lance had to be honest, even if Shiro had left the Arena, it was clear the Arena hadn’t left him yet).  
  

  5. Keith Kogane hated him.



 

So, honest to God, it baffled Lance that this could happen. Because _how could Keith Kogane like me too?_

It didn’t make any sense whatsoever. Lance hadn’t prepared for this outcome, didn’t know how to handle it. There was absolutely, most certainty, very-sorry-to-tell you that there was no possible way that Keith Kogane liked him too. Fate had made certain of it when it popped Lance out, screaming and bloody to the world, and put the spirit of the sea in him—adaptable, open, and expansive. Keith was a completely different story, born in a land of dust and sun, the fire in his heart—head-strong, instinctive, and raging.

There was no way for Keith to like him too. This sort of things just didn’t happen. How could—?

…. Wait a second.

_Since when do I like Keith?_

_*_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance has Feelings™, Keith can't sleep, and it's all Shiro's fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for bearing with me. It's been a crazy week with homework and such, so without further ado, here's the next addition. This story might be longer than the 2-3 chapters originally planned, just a heads up. Thank you so much for reading, for all your kind words and kudos. I appreciate them so much, and it makes me so happy to see it all. You all totally rocked my world.

It didn’t matter how long Lance tried to convince himself that he’d heard Shiro wrong—nothing changed the fact that Lance liked Keith. Realizing that was probably one of the most important things he’d done since arriving in space, not particularly groundbreaking or world-changing by any means (though definitely groundbreaking and world-changing for _him_ ), but a tremendous feat, nonetheless. It was like building a bridge across a river, where the foundation and support beams had to be laid before the construction could truly begin, and Lance’s realization was the very first step.

Lance had sat on that couch for three hours after the group left, Keith lightly snoring against his shoulder, with Shiro’s words reverberating through his skull. He replayed the last moment over and over, as if each _rewind and play, rewind and play, rewind and play,_ could undo the past and take him back to a time when things were simpler. When Keith was his rival, Lance could hate him, and the two got along like a room on fire. Where the only thing he had to worry about was beating Keith, not suppressing the urge to snuggle into his warm embrace.

Lance pursed his lips into a thin line, cold eyes resting on Keith’s slumbering form, and he tried to hate him. He waited for the familiar bubble of indignation and animosity to brew, but it never came—and he had to wonder, when was the last time it had, because for the life of him… he couldn’t remember when he’d stopped being bitter towards Keith Kogane. 

Sighing, Lance settled back in the couch, muscles and tendons going loose like an overstretched rubber band that was finally letting go of its constant strain. His eyes softened, resolute expression fading away, and Keith seemed to read him perfectly. Falling deeper against Lance’s body and tucking his head in the crook of Lance’s neck, Keith’s lips twitched into a small smile. For the first time since they’d arrived in space, Keith looked completely and utterly _happy._

And, just like that, Lance McClain knew he was a goner.

The last few hours had taken their toll on him, and the longer he stared at Keith, the more the whirlwind of thoughts in his head slowed to a low murmur. Fingers curled in the fabric of Keith’s jacket, loose grip seeming to anchor Lance to the here-and-now, reminding him that this wasn’t a dream.

_I’m glad you’re there for him. When he told me he liked you…_

It was difficult. Lance had never been in a position where he felt this way. Fleeting crushes, late-night infatuations, certain cravings—these were things he was used too, but Keith wasn’t any of these. Keith Kogane was an entirely different story. 

Things were so much easier when he hadn’t been in love.

(And, _wait!_ Where the fuck had _love_ come from? He was not in love with _Keith,_ god damn it, he _wasn’t_ —!)

Eyes snapped open wide, staring at Keith with something akin to horror as tension seeped back into his body. There was no way he was in love with Keith Kogane—absolutely no possible _way_. The lines blurred, and he tried to blink them away, to see it crystal-clear for what it was, but the only conclusion that Lance could draw was that _he’d never felt this way about someone before._ The feeling was suffocating, slowly filling his chest and pressing in against his ribcage, crawling up his throat until it clogged his airway. He couldn’t breathe around it, couldn’t think around it, couldn’t _get_ around it.

Lance had to _get away_. The urge to run squirmed beneath his skin like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch, and he wanted nothing more than to run—run away, run far away…

He cast a frantic glance at Keith’s face, soft and sleepy, and felt his heart give a sharp _thud._ With shaky hands, he pressed against Keith’s chest, feeling the slow rise and fall beneath his fingers, before he curled the fabric between his fists and pushed Keith. As soon as the weight was off of him, Lance bolted. The other paladin flew across the couch, bouncing in a mess of flailing limbs and sharp gasps as his world spun out of orbit, and all he could do was hold on tight until it righted itself again.

By the time Keith’s disorientation had faded, and he realized where he was, Lance was gone.

* 

Lance was a pro at keeping secrets—at least when it counted.

Growing up in a home with five other siblings, it was crucial to hide secrets from one another. Living in such close proximity, constantly looking over your shoulder to make someone wasn’t watching you, it was a hard-knock life to live if you wanted privacy—and as someone who thrived in other people’s business, Lance didn’t seem to have a handle on the concept. However, he did know a thing or two about hiding secrets when no one else was looking for them. 

Thus far, he’d hidden the fact that he liked Keith so well that he hadn’t even realized it himself before Shiro spilled Keith’s beans.

Lance was grateful to Shiro, honestly. If it wasn’t for the other paladin’s fuck up, he wouldn’t have realized how much things had changed between him and Keith—and how badly he needed to fix them, so they could all get back to normal. If Keith went back to hating him, and Lance pretended not to care, then everything would be _just fine_. Lance just had to find a way to get over Keith—it seemed simple enough.

Getting over Keith Kogane would be no problem. 

After having dumped Keith (on the couch), and avoiding Hunk’s questions (“ _did you sleep with Keith on the couch? Lance, do I have to wash the couch? Lance, can I sit on that couch ever again? Lance, did you kiss—“),_ Lance slipped into his bedroom to try to get some shut-eye, but he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping that night. After another few hours of tossing and turning, tangled in blankets and pillows, he regretfully hopped out of bed and headed towards the kitchen, hoping that a late night (or early, early morning) might tide him over for a while and take his mind off things. 

As he entered the kitchen, however, Lance froze in the doorway.

Keith’s wide eyes stared back at him over a bowl of red space goo. Lance braced himself against the doorframe, blinking quick as if he could wipe the sight away, but Keith remained, innocently eating his stupid space goo

“I-I thought you were asleep,” Lance said, trying to plaster a bright smile on his face but managed a wince instead.

Keith quirked an eyebrow, puzzlement tinging his features, as he scooped up another spoonful of goo. “I can’t. I can never get to sleep here.”

He shrugged half-heartedly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and Lance couldn’t help but agree. In the middle of a galactic war, sleep was a luxury that they sometimes couldn’t afford, so the periods of quiet and relaxation they received were precious, few and far between. They had to make the most of them because who knew when they’d ever get the chance again. As a result, the paladins had learned to function on long days and short nights, training their bodies to fight and minds to fire, pushing past the limits they had set back on Earth on a daily basis. They devised new ways, new tactics to push themselves to survive and thrive. 

But Lance had seen Keith sleeping earlier—he remembered the heavy bags under his eyes vanishing for a few short hours, the permanent crinkle in his brow soothing away because Keith had felt safe and comfortable for the first time in a long while. It wasn’t that Keith _couldn’t_ sleep because Lance had _seen_ him, rather it was he _didn’t._

A part of Lance wondered what had prompted Keith to pass out during the movie. What about that entire situation was different that Keith could sleep longer on that couch with Lance’s bony shoulder digging into his neck, then at night in his warm bed under a mound of Altean-silk blankets? The only deciding factor was _Lance himself_ , but despite what Shiro said, there was still no chance that _Keith liked him._ Honestly, Lance was still processing the fact that might be into the other paladin a little bit more than he should, but there was absolutely no fucking way that Keith reciprocated.

Shiro was just _misunderstood_. (He had to be.)

Lance pushed himself off the doorframe, shifting his weight as he crossed his arms against his chest, eyes flickering anywhere other than Keith. The other teenager seemed to pick up on his antics, furrowing his brow in confusion, but refused to comment on it. Alright, so the nonchalance Lance was trying to portray was ultimately Not Working™ but that didn’t mean he failed completely—Keith _might_ have had an inkling that something was up, but he didn’t know what it was for sure.

“So…” Lance drawled out, stepping into the kitchen and dancing past the table, trying to find something edible amidst the carcasses of Coran’s Murder Scene™ (cooking attempt).

“—Why are you up?” Keith asked, voice light but direct, and there was no avoiding the question no matter how hard Lance could try. “I thought you needed a full eight hours for your beauty regime.” 

Lance whirled around, anger brewing volatile and tart in the pit of his stomach, ready to snap back with an equally chaff response, but all it took was one look at Keith to lower it to a bitter simmer. The other paladin’s eyes flashed wildly under the dim lighting of the kitchen, a spark glinting for a brief period, in good jest and humor. It took a moment, just a small one but some time nonetheless, for Lance to gauge the full extent of the situation at hand.

Keith was… joking with him. Keith was playing around. Keith Kogane, Pidge-appointed emo of the group, was t _easing_ him.

“W-Was that _joke_?” He gawked, eyes wide in surprise.

Keith simply twisted his mouth into a smile around the spoon clenched between his lips, offering no explanation or affirmation, taking pleasure in Lance’s bewilderment. It was one of the things about him that confused Lance. Back at the Garrison, before Keith and Lance had been formally introduced, everyone talked big of the mysterious pilot who came out of nowhere, spared no notice for anyone else, only friends with prodigy Takashi Shirogane— _selfish_ , they called him, _arrogant too_ , but _damn, he was born to fly_. In the three months they’d been in space, though, Lance had come to find that none of that was true.

None whatsoever.

Keith was a bit of a little shit to be frank. Quick-witted with a silver tongue, he was a knife—his strikes deadly and fast. He felt deeply, cared too much sometimes, and had a temper you could ignite if you knew how to light him up _just right_ (which was Lance’s specialty). In another time, Lance thought they could have been the best of friends, and while he was wary to admit that they were close enough to use that term now, there was still _so much_ they had to deal with before they could seal the deal, which made it fucking impossible for him to understand how Shiro could think they were _dating_. 

God, he needed to talk to Shiro again, but the Black Paladin had booked it the fuck out of dodge before he got the chance to ask him _what the fuck he was thinking._  

The sound of cutlery dropping into an empty bowl pulled Lance from his silent reverie, and his head snapped up to meet Keith’s quizzical expression. “Well?” he asked, and it was clear Lance had missed his question.

“Sorry, I…” Lance swallowed a thick knot in his throat, panic sparking the ends of his frayed nerves.

A dry chuckle fell from Keith’s lips, and a tingle ran up Lance’s spine, making him shudder at the sound. “You really do need your sleep,” he quipped.

“I don’t…” Lance sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t sleep.”

Keith’s eyes widened at the revelation. “You don’t?”

Lance shrugged a shoulder, finally pulling out a chair and settling next to Keith with an arm’s-length between them. _Close enough to converse but not close enough to be intimate_ , he noted to himself. He didn’t want Keith getting the wrong idea, after all.

“I guess I’ve got too much to think about.” Lance crossed his arms against his chest and cocked his head to the side, regarding Keith lightly. “People, places. There’s a lot of them, you know.”

Keith furrowed his brows together, a crease crinkling in the middle of his forehead, as he considered Lance’s statement. Things fell quiet, just the span of a few heartbeats, as the kitchen appliances hummed around them and the overwhelming, suffocating silence of space embraced them. It made Lance uncomfortable. Things between them felt forced and awkward, but at the same time raw and real, like it was the first time they were seeing each other clearly and completely. Unexplored territory tended to have that effect, he guessed.

Silence lingered for a few moments more before Keith raised his head, eyes narrowing as if he’d found an answer to whatever question he was brewing, and flashed him a wry smile. “You like someone,” he said in a thin but knowing voice.

Flabbergasted, Lance opened his mouth to snap back only no words came out, like he couldn’t piece his thoughts together through the shock to form any discernible sentence. Many questions raced through his mind: how did Keith know, did someone tell him, did Keith know it was him? The whole situation was _absolutely ridiculous_ to Lance. Here he was, sitting at the kitchen table of a castle floating in deep space in the early hours of the morning, long before the rest of his team was awake, with his rival across from him, dirty dishes scattered in the space between them, teasing him about his latest crush.

“H-How did you—” Lance tried to say, but Keith stopped him. 

“—oh shit, do you _actually_ like someone?” Keith’s face shattered like someone took a brick to a window, punching a hole and leaving crooked shambles behind, smile dropping and eyes wide and vulnerable. “I was just joking—" 

“—you need to learn how to deliver a joke, Keith, oh my fucking—”

“—I thought it was obvious, I thought you got it—”

“—does this look like the face of a person who _got it_ , Keith?! I can’t—” 

“—wait, wait, then who do you like?”

“…Who do I?” Lance swallowed a thick lump in his throat, heart beating against his rib cage as if it could claw its way out. The world turned slippery as it spun out of orbit, twirling and whirling away, and he couldn’t find a handhold in this reality. “Who do I like?”

Keith stood still, waiting for his answer, and as much as Lance wanted to turn tail and run, something told him that this was a question he couldn’t walk away from. Mouth dry, voice lost, he tried to come up with the words to possible give Keith some sort of answer without telling him the truth. He could spout off anyone’s name –anyone on board—because Keith didn’t know better. How could he? He and Keith weren’t close. They’d never spent long nights discussing team dynamics and relations, not to the extent that he and Hunk did, didn’t spend hours wondering how everyone back on Earth was, didn’t wax poetry about the beauty they’d been privy too as they traveled across the universe.

Lance could say Hunk, or Allura, or _Coran_ even, and Keith wouldn’t have any reason to doubt him. Keith didn’t have to _know_ the truth. 

“I…”

Keith stared at him doubtfully, face oddly pale and stricken, and for a second, he almost looked _hurt_ , like Lance’s answer could make or break him. And _god damn it, Shiro,_ Lance couldn’t think about this right now. He shouldn’t have had too. If it wasn’t for the Black Paladin, he could have gone on with his life, blissfully unaware of his feelings for Keith, and Keith’s possible feelings for him (which he was _sure_ were still nonexistent).

“For fuck’s sake, Shiro,” he murmured under his breath, refusing to meet Keith’s gaze as he cursed their leader into oblivion. 

“…Shiro?” Keith’s voice was small, as if Lance had sucked all the air from him. “You… like Shiro?”

Lance made a move to correct him, but… You know what, Lance realized, Shiro would work. 

“Yep,” he declared. “I like Shiro.”

“Shiro?" 

“…Yes?”

“ _Our_ Shiro?”

“ _Do we know another_?!" 

“No, but…” Keith pursed his lips, a twisted smile marring his face, and looked away.

Lance wanted nothing more than to soothe it away. He almost looked _broken_ , but that wouldn’t make sense because why would Keith care if Lance had a crush on Shiro? Unless… Shiro was right. Unless Keith did have feelings for him, unless Lance actually _did reciprocate_ , and Lance just ruined everything by claiming he had a crush on Keith’s best friend—his oldest, dearest, closest friend. How would Lance feel, if the person he liked admitted they had feelings for someone else, possibly the only person Lance had even told his feelings to in the first place.

“Well, that’s uhm…” Keith paused, seemingly at a loss for words. 

“Horrible?” Lance suggested with a dry laugh. “Yeah, pretty much sucks, honestly.”

Keith bit his bottom lip, gnawing on it as he worked out his frustrations. “What’re you gonna do about it? It’s not like you can…”

 _It’s not like you can, what?_ Lance shook his head, unsure how Keith could even begin to finish that statement. How could you act on your feelings, knowing that the person you liked could never feel the same way—didn’t feel the same way. To hope there was a better ending was pointless and cruel, when it would just let you down in the grand scheme of things. Lance couldn’t afford to take that risk. Keith and he were dancing the line between rivals and friends, on the edge of the Earth, and one wrong move could send them toppling over into the abyss with no way out.

He desperately longed for the normal times when bickering was a part of the daily routine, and feelings and love were figments of his imagination, when they weren’t even in the picture. Times where he knew where he stood with Keith, when he was certain how Keith felt about him, where things were so much simpler and easier to deal with. It scared Lance, to be honest. Usually, he was as confident in love as he was in life, but these feelings he held for Keith were different and surreal, in a way. He’d never experienced them before—and he didn’t know if he wanted to.

…He didn’t know what to do.

“Are you gonna tell him?” Keith asked, gaze flickering across his face, imploring Lance to answer.

Lance shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “What can I do? It’s not like he’ll do anything about it.”

“Duty before desire,” Keith quipped.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, Shiro’d probably discourage relationships among team members anyway.”

 _Yeah, right_. He thought to himself, grin slowly growing. _He basically gave me his blessing to pursue Keith, or whatever the fuck he thought he was doing. Probably lock us in a closet the first chance we get._

Keith crumbled in on himself, sinking lower into his seat. “Guess you can’t do anything then?” He raised his head, eyes meeting Lance’s, and Lance saw a glint of an emotion he couldn’t quite put a name to flare for a brief second. ( _Hope_ , he dared to say.   _Keith found hope._ ) 

“I could talk to him for you,” Keith suggested.

“A-Actually,” Lance said, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “I think I can handle it.”

“No, no, seriously, let me help. I _know_ him, I could talk you up, be your…”

“…Wingman?”

“Yeah, that!"

Lance wanted to die.

“I’d appreciate that, but—” he said, rubbing the back of his neck to avoid Keith’s heavy gaze.

“It’s no problem, I swear.” Keith scooted his chair back, pushing himself to his feet with his bowl in hand. The air between them turned thick with tension, and both were running away at the first chance they were given. “I’ll talk to him in the morning for you.”

“But…” Lance stopped. If Keith told Shiro how Lance felt, there was a good chance that Shiro would _have_ to talk to him.

That would get that little shit out in the open, so Lance could get some answers.

A smile lighting his face, Lance nodded towards Keith as he turned for the doorway. “That sounds great. Thanks, Mullet." 

He ambled out of the kitchen, a flick of his wrist in Keith’s direction as his only goodbye, intent on disappearing into his bedroom and burying his face in a pillow for hours, and not think about how much he fucked everything up between them.

“No problem,” Keith whispered as he left, a soft voice that trickled past Lance’s ears like a cool summer breeze. “…Night, Lance.”

Lance swallowed down his regret, burning in his throat like boiling acid, that popped and sputtered in a fire of rage and anger. As much as he hated living in the unknown, he wanted—more than anything right now—for things to go back to normal. He didn’t like having feelings for Keith. He didn’t like not knowing how Keith felt about him. He didn’t like not knowing where they stood. Were they friends? Were they rivals? Or were they just two lost souls, searching the chaotic universe without fate to guide them?

Even through all the chaos with Keith, even though Lance liked him, even though Shiro thought Keith might like him, Lance was certain of one thing: _Keith could never find out how he felt_.

…No one could.

Lance would find a way to get over Keith if it was the last thing he did.

He swore it.

(And like all things in life, fate had a funny way of fucking up that plan).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Lance get closer, thanks to Keith, and Lance finally scores a date, but it's not with who you think it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out way angstier than I thought it would be.

The morning brought about a fuckery of screams and knocks, each louder than the first, from the other side of his door, and Lance knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was well and truly Fucked™ (capitalized and trademarked, because Shiro’s wrath was _important_ and not to be ignored). Even though he was probably going to die by the time Shiro was done with him, Lance was quite impressed with Keith. Despite whatever animosity (or lack of) there was between them, he could at least admit that Keith got shit done.

“ _Lance!_ ” Shiro sounded angry, and Lance was slightly (quite) terrified. If he had to choose between a fiery death at the hands of Zarkon or opening the door for Shiro, he wouldn’t be lying if he said that handing himself and Blue over to the Galra right now didn’t sound like a good way to go. “Lance, I know you’re in there! _Open the door!_ ” 

Lance cast a sideways glance at his bayard resting idly on the chair with his jacket, wondering how long it would take him to blast out a quick exit in his bathroom wall. Shiro’s knocks grew in intensity, a hear-throbbing _thump, thump, thump_ that reverberated through the small bedroom, and he could only gulp in fear. There was no escaping this. Fate had dealt him his cards, and it was time to play the game. 

Plastering a bright smile on his face, Lance clicked the button to open the door, ready to meet Shiro with the most chipper greeting possible, but as the door slid away and revealed the older man, he froze. Steel-grey eyes narrowed in determination, anger flickering wildly under the dim hallway light, shoulders tense and lips pursed in a resolute expression… Shiro wasn’t just angry, _oh no, no, no, no_ , he was mightily _pissed_ , and Lance was mightily _screwed_.

The door continued to slide open. Lance flicked the switch to close it again.

Reflexes born and bred in a Galran prison, quick and loud like a bullet, Shiro’s metal hand wedged itself between the doorway, forcing the door open before Lance had a chance to lock him out. He stepped forward, and Lance skittered back a few steps, paling as Shiro’s hulking figure entered his bedroom and closed the door behind him. It gave a soft _thud_ as it slid home.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ Lance thought. _I’m dead. Shiro’s gonna kill me._

Shiro crossed his arms against his chest, narrowed his eyes as his glare sharpened, and spoke with a low voice, “What the hell were you thinking?”

Lance shrugged half-heartedly, trying to avoid the true question. “That space goo is an excellent source of nutrients, and we’re gonna miss breakfast if we stay in here any longer. So, we should head out—” He tried to step around Shiro, aiming for the door, but the flash hand wrapped around his shoulder and pulled him back. “— _okay, good, alright_ , so we’re not doing that.” 

“Sit down.” Lance plopped down on the bed, bouncing on the mattress, and wondered if he got enough of a spring, he could jump over Shiro and duck out of the room--" 

“ _Lance_.” Shiro’s gaze rested heavy on him, shoulders dropping as the strict expression on his face melted. “What were you thinking?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“No, you do, you know exactly why I’m here,” Shiro protested, poking him gently in the chest. “And you’re not leaving until we talk about this.”

“Well, if we _really_ need to address the elephant in the room, it’s large, has black and white hair, and doesn’t know the proper definition of consent, which is explicit permission, Shiro.” Lance poked Shiro back, eyes narrowing in defiance. “Even if you knock, and even if I open the door, the correct procedure is to ask, ‘ _Oh, hey, Lance! Could I please come in?_ ’ And then, you need to wait until I say, _‘Yes, of course, Shiro! Welcome to my humble abode. Make yourself comfortable_.’ You don’t barge in, especially when I’m shutting the door on you. We’ve have a lot of Team Meetings™ about this specific thing, and I’m telling Allura that you broke your own rules, and—” 

Shiro blinked.

Lance wondered if he broke him.

His friend raised a finger to protest, but he faltered, knowing that Lance had cornered him. This, however little it may seem, had been a prevalent problem three months ago, and rules were instilled for a specific reason (and Lance would play that card all he could if it meant getting out of this situation alive). 

“Y-You have a point,” Shiro finally said, meeting Lance’s panicked eyes, “And I will apologize for that, but you’re still not getting out of this. We’re gonna talk about it whether you like it or not.” 

Lance sighed. “What about?” 

“You’re not stupid, Lance, so stop acting like it.” Shiro leaned closer, and Lance had to clasp his hands together, shaky fingers intertwining to contain his panic. “Why did Keith barge into my room just now and tell me you have a _crush_ on _me_?”

“B-Because I couldn’t contain my love for you any longer.” Lance stared up at Shiro through heavy-lidded eyes. “I had to tell someone, and Keith was right there. He said he’d talk to you—” 

“ _Lance_.”

“Look, alright, I panicked!” He leapt off the bed, hands tugging at his hair as the world spun faster. “I didn’t sleep all night, and it’s all your fucking fault!”

“Me?” Shiro paled. “What do I have to do with this?!”

“You fucked everything up when you told me Keith liked me last night!” Pink dusted the tips of Shiro’s ears as he settled down where Lance had previously sat, obviously still shaken from the events. “And then you left me trapped under Keith on the couch!” 

“I… I didn’t leave you trapped on the couch,” Shiro protested, ducking his head sheepishly. “You looked comfortable and were minding your own business. I didn’t want to disturb you guys.” 

“Then why did you say that s-stuff… All those things about Keith _liking_ me, and us _dating,_ and me _being good for him_?” Lance’s voice cracked because he couldn’t possibly understand what was going through Shiro’s head last night. The Black Paladin was supposed to be the most straightforward and practical one of all of them, able to solve any problem whether it was team relationships or battlefield strategies—not fuck everything up in one go. 

Shiro seemed to crumble in on himself. “I didn’t mean to say any of that,” he reassured him, biting his bottom lip, “You were never supposed to hear that.”

“B-But I _did_?!” Lance cried out, eyes flashing wildly as he gestured towards his chest with both hands, pulling at his shirt. “Newsflash: the stuff Lance wasn’t supposed to know? Well, he knows now. You can’t change what I heard!”

“Then what do you want me to do?” Shiro sighed, placing his hands on his knees, shoulders falling as if Lance had just thrust the weight of the world upon them. 

“Take it back!” Lance stared at him, practically begging. “Tell me it was just a joke—some epic prank you and Pidge thought would be funny.” 

“I can’t do that.”

“And why _not?_ ”

With a soft smile, Shiro shrugged, finally raising his eyes to meet Lance. “Because it’s all true.” 

“You can’t mean that.” Lance could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Keith hates me, absolutely fucking despises me. He has since we got here, and nothing has changed. We’re barely friends on the good days. I mean, we’ve even got the whiteboard in the kitchen: 0 Days Since Lance and Keith Fought And Broke Something™.”

Shrio took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Things change, Lance. One day, you may feel like the hatred you feel for someone, that thing that’s always burning in the pit of your stomach, you know? It feels like nausea or acid reflex, but it’s really just something you hold onto—and you tell yourself it’s anger, but the more you try to convince that’s what it is, you realize it’s not even close.”

Lance fell silent, unable to form a response, and took a step back, a hand reaching out to the wall for support.

“You think you hate them, but if you really hated them, you’d never wanna be around them,” Shiro continued, voice soft. “If Keith really hated you, do you think he would have fallen asleep with you last night?”

_He looked happy_ , Lance remembered. _He looked happy there._  

His world turned slippery again, and he could barely turn back to Shiro and whisper, “I think you need you to leave now.”

“Allura wanted me to let you know we’ll be approaching Ramilian soon,” Shiro said in a low voice, refusing to meet Lance’s heavy gaze. “We’ll be meeting about a possible alliance.” Shiro sighed, knowing that Lance had much more to come to grips with. He pushed himself to his feet slowly and ambled towards the door, one hand on the switch as it slowly slid open. 

Lance had nearly forgot about the mission, but he nodded regardless, unable to form any words. What had been said didn’t need any further explaination. Shiro had told him what he needed, and now it seemed that the ball was crossing Lance’s plate. He had three options: swing and miss, swing and score, or take the pitch.

He sighed softly. “I wish you’d never told me he liked me.”

Shiro flashed him a pain smile then stepped out into the hallway. He was gone.

Lance fell back against the wall, sliding down until his knees were pulled tight against his chest and arms hugging them close. What was a lovestruck idiot like him supposed to do now?

Everything was so much simpler before feelings got involved, and more than anything, he wanted to go back to that time. Before Keith liked him, before he reciprocated, before Shiro meddled in something he had no business being a part of. Lance could only see one option: forget it ever happened. 

Forget Keith liked him. Forget Shiro fucked up. Forget why he fell for Keith.

He was taking the pitch.

 *

Landing planet-side offered Lance a freshstart.

He still wasn’t sure why he had fallen for Keith in the first place, but he supposed that living in a Castle with six other people as your only companions could make anyone desperate. If living without _opportunities_  was the issue, then going out and taking more chances were the perfect solution to his problem. Keith Kogane may have been the only one for him in the Castle, but out on Ramilian, everything was a whole new story. People of all sizes, new places to explore—it was a different game that Lance could play, one that Keith wouldn’t be a part of.

The aliens on this planet weren’t hard on the eyes either.

Tall and bipedal, nearly humanoid in shape, the Ramilians welcomed Team Voltron with open arms and bright smiles. Blue skin with ivory vines decorating their limbs stood out against the soft pink color of their planet. Whether male or female or anything in-between, all had their long, white hair pulled back in a mess of curls and plaits, fringe framing their elongated faces. When they smiled, he caught the glittering of cerulean teeth and the glint of their white pupils and black scelera. As exotic and lethal as they appeared, adjourned with knives and buckles over every inch of their bodies, Lance had to admit the Ramilians were one of the most beautiful species he’d ever come across since this space adventure had began. 

“Allura of Altea,” the leader of the Ramilians greeted as the team stepped out of the castle, bowing low, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance. Forgive my forwardness, your Highness, but is it Queen or Princess now a days?”

Lance arched an eyebrow high in puzzlement as he turned to face Allura who was looking everywhere but her Paladins, a light pink dusting the tips of her cheeks. It was funny, he realized, as none of them had ever considered the idea that, without King Alfor in the picture, that she might ascend to the throne. It was clear that Allura had assumed the same.

“Princess will do fine,” she responded, clenching her hand tight at her sides, nails digging into the heel of her palm. “I’m afraid there’s no Altea to be Queen of anymore.” 

The Ramilian leader pressed his lips into a thin line, nodding once in acceptance. “Perhaps,” he said simply, “But there’s always a chance to rebuild what once was. I’ve heard many things about the Paladins of Voltron and the last Alteans. Ramilian would be pleased to join under your rule should the Galra ever crumble.” 

It seemed too easy. Honestly, Lance was a little disappointed he wouldn’t get to bash in any heads or fight any enemies—anything to relieve the tension that had hung over him since everything went to hell last night.

“You propose an alliance?” Allura asked.

“A union perhaps,” the leader said. He gestured for her to follow. “Let’s walk, your Majesty, as I believe there is much to discuss.”

The Paladins were left to please themselves in the jumble of Ramilian culture and people—shops and vendors lining the sides of the streets as they transversed on foot through the city. Pidge ducked out early as something metallic caught her eye, and Shiro, being the wonderful leader e was, followed in order to keep an eye on _her._ Hunk disappeared in search of new ingredients for their kitchen as it had reached a stage where even Coran had began experimenting with what remained, so a resupply was in desperate need (however, he didn’t leave without subtly pushing Lance towards Keith, flashing his friend a thumbs-up as he took off in the other direction).

Lance bumped into Keith with a soft _oof_ , catching both of them of them off guard. Hands on his arms, Keith steadied Lance until he could regain his bearings, eyes wide in concern. It wasn’t until he pulled away that Keith let go, hands forming tight fists at his sides to refrain from touching Lance (and Lance would never openly admit how disappointed he was about it). 

Lance wondered why he didn’t. If Shiro was right ( _you know he is, you stupid taco tit_ , Lance told himself), and Keith did, in fact, have a Super Mega Ultra Secret Crush™ on him, how could he resist _making a move_? Don’t get him wrong, Lance didn’t want Keith doing so—because the idea of Keith Kogane flirting with him might just cause him to spontaneously combust—but the other paladin definitely held himself with an iron leash. He had to give Keith props—credit where credit was due—kudos for the restraint.  

But then Keith opened his mouth and ruined it all.

“So here we are, just the two of us,” Keith said, quoting the beginning of every porno ever  written.

“And then there was one,” Lance said, quoting the end of every murder mystery ever written (or maybe just that one boring Agatha Christie novel that his mother read religiously). 

Lance needed to leave. He needed to leave _now,_ so with a frantic, frenzied heart pounding against his ribcage, trying to break bones to make itself known, he turned on his heel, leaving a stunned Keith standing alone in the middle of the street, and disappeared in the crowd. He couldn’t deal with being near him anymore because he could feel that _feeling_ Shiro described bubbling up in his stomach, forcing its way _up, up, up_ until the words would come spilling out between them, until there was nothing left to say.

_I like you, and I know you like me too_ , he’d say. _But I’m too scared to do anything about it because it’d change everything, and I don’t think I can handle anymore change._

And there it was. The reason he needed to get over Keith, the reason he needed to move on. There were a precious few truths that Lance held on, especially since his life had turned chaotic and slippery once he entered the topsy-turvy turmoil of space, and these things were absolute and unchanging:

 

  1. Pidge could be distracted with the coffee-equivalent alien juice that Hunk had found in a marketplace on a backwater moon during one of their supply runs. One of Lance’s favorite past times was stealing her coffee and hiding it under her bed since her bedroom was one of the few places she visited, only wrestled in there when Shiro forced her to sleep like an actual human being. (While it would make excellent blackmail material, it was more fun to watch his friend nearly tear her hair out in the search for it. Even better when Shiro needed that stuff to function too).
  2. Hunk loved to tinker, even more so than Pidge. When no one was looking, he smuggled different parts into his hangar and crafted new equipment from wrecked Altean technology and space scraps. So far he’d made a functioning blender, but it had a tendency to get up and try to kill people, so he locked it in a supply closet on the upper levels.
  3. Allura cried about the genocide of her people when she thought no one was looking. Lance knew her well enough to know when to look, and then it was a short walk to corral Coran to her side. Coran was the best support system the Castle Ship had to offer—this was another thing Lance was certain of.
  4. Shiro wasn’t perfect, and he never would be. Lance was stupid to think he was. However, Shiro did try—with all his heart and soul, everything he had to offer—Shiro tried to be perfect, and that was all that mattered. (And when he had nothing else to offer, Lance would give whatever he could to keep that man together).
  5. Keith Kogane hated him.



 

But Lance also knew some more things:

 

  1. It was a lie.
  2. Keith Kogane did not hate him.
  3. Keith Kogane liked him.
  4. Lance liked Keith Kogane too.
  5. And that scared him more than he could ever admit.



 

What was he supposed to do? Tell Keith how he felt, accept the feelings that boiled and toiled inside them? No, that was asking to get hurt, and he knew that. He knew that well. There had to be some way to change how he felt, how Keith felt, and… Lance had a pretty good idea how. He sought out the prettiest Ramilian he could find, one with twinkling eyes and soft hair, one who blushed easily and laughed freely, who smiled just like Keith did—

Lance shook his head. He wouldn’t think about Keith, _he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t_ … 

Someone ran into him, pulling him from his silent, raging reverie.

“Oh, _excuse me_!” The soft soprano voice drifted past his ears like a melodious harp, twinging and twanging in just the right place. “I didn’t see where I was going. My sincerest apologies, sir.”

“No, no, that was my fault,” he began, but then he stopped when he saw her. Eyes raking the Ramilian’s form, eyelashes fluttering against her freckled blue skin, a shy smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

_Perfect._

“Well, hello, _you_ ,” Lance drawled out, the casanova charisma practically oozing out of him.

He grabbed her hand, pressing a light kiss across her knuckles, and she merely giggled at his antics. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” 

“Sir?” Lance laughed, swinging an arm around the Ramilian’s shoulders. “Please, call me Lance.” 

Strolling down the street, Lance tried to keep his mind far away from Keith, choosing to focus on the blinding white eyes of the Ramilian. 

_Getting over Keith?_ He thought. _Easy peasy._

*

Shiro greeted him at the Castle entrance when he finally returned, only stopping for a light lunch before heading back out into the city for his date with the _beautiful_ Ramilian, Juzell. The name rolled off his tongue with a smile as he said it over and over, trying to fill his head with echoes of _her_ instead of _him._ Murmuring to himself under his breath, he failed to notice Shiro lurking near the doors until the cool, metal hand was clasped on his shoulder and pulling him into a side alcove, scaring the shit out of him again. 

“Will you just _stop_ doing that?” Lance stammered, trying to get his racing heart under control again. “Screw it, I don’t need my heart for anything, right? Someone else can pilot Blue, I can die from fright, that’s okay because it’s Lance, and Lance—”

“—needs to explain why he ditched Keith today,” Shiro said, crossing his arms against his chest with a Disappointed Dad™ expression.

“Hey, _hey_ , I didn’t _ditch_ Keith,” Lance protested, something hot and angry washing over him. “I just had better things to do." 

“Lance,” was all Shiro could muster, angry streaks of red blossoming across his cheeks. 

Lance didn’t want to hear it. He’d already heard everything Shiro had to say, and another lecture wouldn’t change anything. He ambled towards the kitchen, never once breaking his stride, and completely ignoring Shiro’s calls after him. It wasn’t until that metal hand was back on his shoulder, whirling him around, that he had to come face-to-face with an angry paladin. 

“Don’t you dare walk away from me when I’m talking to you,” said Space Dad in his Dad™ voice.

“Whatever,” said Lance the Rebellious Teenager™ in his Rebellious Phase™ voice.

“This is a _problem_ ,” he said as if Lance had never spoken.

Lance bristled, hands forming fists, and lips twisting into a marred frown. “Then talk to _Keith_ about it! This has nothing to do with me.” 

Shiro threw his hands into the air with exasperation, gasping out, “This has everything to do with you.” 

“Everything would be _fine_ if you stopped messing with other people’s business,” Lance snapped back, tasting the metallic anger on the tip of his tongue. “Leave it between me and Keith. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date tonight, and I’d like to be on time.”

Shiro started at his words. “Whoa, whoa, _whoa_ … What… What about Keith?” 

“What about him?” he asked with a dry chuckle, shaking his head.

“Well, I thought—” 

“—just because you thought we were dating, doesn’t mean we are,” Lance told him point-blank, crossing his arms tight against his chest, almost afraid to look at Shiro directly. He could barely stand disappointing the older man on missions, and the fact that he was doing it now—knowingly and intentionally—caused him more pain than he cared to admit. “Besides, you said it yourself. You never thought Keith’s feelings would be reciprocated, and guess what—” 

“Lance,” Shiro said softly, a broken voice in the howling wind of a raging storm. 

“They _aren’t_.” 

Lance stalked away, heading for the kitchen or his bedroom, he wasn’t quite sure yet. All he knew was that he was lying, and he was pretty sure Shiro knew it too. 

Question is…

How long could he keep lying to himself?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain message is left.

Lance McClain wanted it to be known that he knew he didn’t always make the best decision, but somehow everything worked out in the end anyways. This particular incident was no different, despite Shiro’s hesitation and fear about it. Lance fully expected for _nothing to go wrong_ during his date with Juzell, and as a firm believer in self-fulfilling prophecies, there was nothing to garunatee it wouldn’t.

But Lance McClain didn’t exactly have the luck of the Irish.

The date had started off well enough as he joined Juzell for a night in the city, under the twinkling stars and blinding city lights, intending to enjoy the next few hours and forget about Keith Kogane entirely. Juzell showed him the latest in Ramilian cuisine and fine dining where they spent dinner laughing over nonsense as Lance sideyed the food that moved whenever he poked it with his spork while Juzell showed him how to eat the dish properly. Afterwards, they went for a long walk among the shops, and Lance was sure to buy her a few things that caught her fancy.

Overall, it was a pretty good first date, to say the least, and if they had any intention of prolonging their visit to Ramilian, Lance would make plans to see her again. Alas, they were only in the city for another day or two as Allura finished up negoitations with the Ramilian leader then they’d take their leave. He reminded himself to leave his contact information with Juzell, so they could stay connected while he fought an intergalatic war.

Alas, fate had other plans.

It started with a question, one that Lance shouldn’t have asked in the first place. He always had to jinx every good thing.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked softly as they approached her humble abode, hands interlaced and swinging between them, bumping against his thigh as they walked.

Juzell only smiled, her eyes twinkling under the soft fairy lights that were strewn across the streets. “I did, I did,” she reassured him with a soft laugh. “I had a really nice time tonight. Thanks for going out with me, Lance.”

Lance shook his head as a sharp smirk wormed its way across his face, the cool, confident charisma practically oozing from every pore. “No problem. I had a good time tonight too.”

“It’s a shame you aren’t staying longer,” she told him. “I’d love to get to know you… _better_.”

Lance felt her pain. It was hard to make connections during their travels, knowing you had to leave in the end, which was actually a pro he’d placed in the Why Dating Keith Kogane Could Be a Good Thing List. The thought struck him like lightening, paralyzing him as his spin rocketed ram-rod straight and his step stumbled, as if he could hardly believe it’d even crossed him mind. The whole point of this date, he reminded himself, was to _stop thinking about Keith_ —not to convince yourself it would be a good idea.

Lance plastered a cheerful expression on his face, eyes wide with wonder and interest, and tried to stare at Juzell like she was his whole world (and she would be if Keith wouldn’t stop zooming across his sky like the most beautiful shooting star he’d ever seen). “You too. We’ll have to keep in touch after I leave. It’s nice to have a few friends in the universe.”

Juzell only giggled again. Her laughter reminded him of his younger sister’s who giggled uncontrollably every second of the day, so carefree and happy, like the wind chimes on the back porch back home that would jingle every time the cool breeze trickled past, the scent of sea and salt tickling their noses while they sat on the rickety wooden swing and watched the seagulls dive into the water. It’s probably the reason he liked Juzell so much—she reminded him of home, warm and comfortable.

It had been a while since he’d felt like this with someone he liked.

But… _Keith._

Keith was like the bridge Lance hid under for shelter on the weekend nights when rain pounded the streets on his walk back to the Garrison, the times he could sneak away to spend hours under the stars with the smell of the storm on the horizon, the times that reminded him the most of home. Thunder and lightning roared ahead like a warring giant, but under the old stone bridge, everything was quiet and still with only the _drip-drops_ of water that told him the world was still turning. Keith was steady and strong; someone he could rely on as everything changed—and then changed _again_ —to always stay the same. No matter the storm, he’d stand unyielding, and sometimes Lance needed that.

“You know,” Juzell interjected, startling him from his silent reverie, “It’s funny. When I first met you… _Oh_ , you’re gonna laugh at me.”

“Come on,” Lance encouraged, nudging her side with their joined hands. “The Tailor always loved a good joke or two.”

“The Tailor?”

“I know a good line when I see it.” Juzell giggled again, warm streaks of pink painting her cheeks, and Lance only grinned wider.

“So what’s up?” he asked her.

“When I first saw you,” she began, biting her bottom lip as if she was too embarassed to say, but Lance had a feeling he knew where she was taking this. He leaned closer, hot breath tickling the side of her neck as she continued, “…I thought you and the Red Paladin…” Air catching his his throat, heart stuttering in his chest, his eyes widened in fear. “…were _together_.”

She turned to face him, attempting to gauge his reaction, but he only stood there like an idiot, mouth open as he tried to form some semblance of a coherent answer. “W-What?” he finally croaked, voice hoarse.

“I guess it was the way you two looked at each other.” She shrugged half-heartedly, flashing him a small smile. “I thought…”

“No, no, no, _no_ —” he stammered.

“Lance, are you alright?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion.

“—no, no, I—”

“Are you having a reaction to the halfsurger?” She glanced over her shoulder, searching for a place to rest, and placed a steady hand on his lower back. “Perhaps we should sit for a while—”

“I-I’m fine, do you, I’m…” He couldn’t make words work. Words were hard. Words were slippery bastards who kept dodging the more he reached. Words didn’t make _sense_.

Juzell finally paused, eyes widening as a thought suddenly dawned on her. “—wait, are you two _together_?”

“I wish,” he snorted.

“Excuse me?”  
“ _He_ wishes,” Lance shouted, throwing his hands into the air in shock. They hovered between the two of them, clenching and unclenching as if to grab a hold of something, but he wasn’t sure what they were searching for.

His sanity? Perhaps.

“Lance?” Juzell asked, and _oh god, oh god, oh god,_ she looked hurt.

“No, no,” he finally reassured her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Me and Keith are _not_ together.”

She ducked her head, refusing to meet his gaze, and Lance felt his heart clench in his chest. He hadn’t meant to hurt her or, god forbid, _use_ her to get over Keith because that wasn’t what he was doing (even if that was his guilty head was yelling at him for)—he was here to have a good time with a great girl, someone who liked his company and who he enjoyed in return. _They were having a great time together,_ he told him, _until Keith had to ruin it_.

“Shiro told me to stay away from you.”

Juzell’s voice made him perk up, shock soothing his frayed nerve endings as they spazzed in a chaotic frenzy insid ehim. “Shiro did _what_ now?”

Juzell pressed her lips into a thin line, almost reluctant to say more. “Your leader told me to stay away else I’d be wrecking—”

“Oh my god, oh my god, I can’t believe…” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his short hair, gripping the roots in frustration and giving them a sharp tug to remind himself that _yep, fucking yep, this is happening, and Jesus taco tits, Shiro is cockblocking me._

Now Juzell just looked unsure of herself and still _deeply, deeply_ hurt. “Lance,” she said softly.

“First off,” he said, shoving his hands in his pocket and tried to settle for a cool and nonchalant persona (which wasn’t even _remotely_ believable, he had to admit, because he couldn’t even count how many _what the fucks_ he was having right now). “You are _not_ a homewrecker, don’t believe a word Shiro says.”

“What’s a _homewrecker_?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he told her. “What matters is that I asked you out, and you said yes. You didn’t wreck anything. Understand?”

She nodded, albeit uncertainly, but Lance had still made his point.

“And secondly, Shiro may pilot the Black Lion, but he is not my leader.” His eyes glinted under the street lights, flashing wildly as hot anger bubbled in his stomach once more. And rest assured, he and Shiro were having a _long talk_ with Allura when he got back to the Castle tonight. “I make my own choices, and that means who I want to go with, who I want to like, and he doesn’t get any say in the matter. And right now, I want to be with you— _you_. I wanted to have a nice night with _you_. A-And we had a nice night, right?”

Juzell nodded again. Lance wondered if her neck was getting sore.

“Yeah, we had a good time. In fact, I only thought about you the whole time. Not stupid Keith, with his stupid d-dry, unconditioned hair that _totally_ doesn’t look like it would s-slip through your fingers like a _damn_ waterfall from heaven because _oh god_ , for a guy from the desert, he sure makes me thirsty just looking at it—”

Juzell held up a hand in front of his face, halting his rambling, and leveled him with a heavy stare. “Are you sure?”

“Sure of what?”

“That you don’t like Keith?” Her voice was heavy too.

“O-Of course, what gave you that idea?”

“Because it sounds like you like this Keith fellow.” A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips, but it was more hurt than happy.

“I don’t _like_ Keith,” he said weakly, hands beginging to shake. He crossed his arms against his chest, turning his eyes towards the ground. “I _stopped_ liking Keith. I don’t like him anymore.”

“But you used too?” she prodded.

“…Maybe,” he finally admitted, and it was like a huge weight had lifted from his chest (like how every cliché romance novel his mom read described falling in love), and he could finally _breathe_. “Maybe I used too, but that’s over now. It’s… It’s _over_.”

Juzell studied him for a quiet moment, gaze flickering over his tense form, and his heartbeat grew louder in his ears because he was _finally_ beginning to listen to it. “It sounds like you never got any closure.”

“Closure?” The answer piqued his interest. “ _Closure_. That’s what it is. That’s what I need… Juzell, you’re _brilliant!_ ” He pressed his lips to her cheek in a swift kiss.

“—y-you’re welcome?”

“How do I get closure?” he asked, excitement bubbling up inside him, but his heart groaned in protest. “How do I find closure from Keith?”

“Perhaps you should call him and just tell him the truth.”

Lance nodded in understanding, barely even processing her words, because he finally had a way out after the long hours spent agonizing over this predicament. “That is a brilliant idea. Brilliant, _simply brilliant_ … Lemme just find my communcations pod. Hold on, hold.” Digigng in his jacket pockets, he searched for the portable comm unit that Shiro required that they all carry around with them for Emergency Use Only™, a requirement after losing Pidge in a marketplace on a supply run only to find her an hour later running the Underground Black Market (everyone was appropriately worried for her safety and oddly impressed). “Okay, got it… So what do I tell him?”

“Whatever you need too,” Juzell said. “Just find a way to say… exactly what you mean. Just something that will say, ‘ _I’m over you_.’”

“Perfect,” Lance said and pressed in the code to reach Keith.

The comm unit buzzed in his hand, static sounding as it tried to reach Keith, but it was obvious after a few long moments he wasn’t answering. Perhaps he had turned in early, which would be odd for the Guy Who Never Slept™, but regardless, Lance had a plan in mind and _god damn it_ , he was going to follow through with it. He waited for a moment longer, holding his breath as he tried to get his thoughts together and form some semblance of a message to leave, something that would convince Keith to _go back to the way things were_ , to convince _himself_ to stop pining for a boy he could never be with, to stop feeling like he was a horrible person for trying to get over a crush he didn’t _need_ to have.

There was a long beep and then a short buzz, signaling that Lance was free to leave a message.

High on the evening, probably a bit high on the Nunvil they’d sipped at dinner, he stared at Juzell with a wide smile and left a message that he was sure he’d never regret leaving.

(But come on. He should’ve known it’d all go to shit in the end).

*

_“Hey, Keith… Hi, it’s Lance, you know? You’re teammate, the Blue Paladin, the one and only Lance… Look, I’m just calling to say that… this date I just went on… It went so well, so fucking well. Me and Juzell had a wonderful time—it was absolutely fucking wonderful, best night I’ve ever had. You should be really happy for me, I had a great time and we’re really good for each other. I just like her so much… so you know what that means? Obviously, let me tell you something, pretty boy, it means I’m over you. You hear that? I’m over you. I. Am over. You. I am so over you. And that, my friend, is what they call ‘closure.’”_

*

Lance walked the hallways of the Castle later that night, lips still numb from where he’d kissed Juzell goodbye after their wonderful date, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was from the anastethic properties of her salivia or if he actually _liked_ her. Shaky fingers traced the cracks in his chapped lips, hoping to feel a tingle or just _anything_ at all—the spark the romance novels talked about—but there was still absolutely nothing.

( _I wonder what it’d be like to kiss Keith_.)

There had been no spark, no connection between them, and he couldn’t understand. Juzell was beautiful, soft and warm in all the right places, with a pretty, jingle-bell laugh and sparkling eyes that reminded him of the sun back home. Comfortable and stagant—which was everything he needed in a significant other—someone he could come home to after a long day, who made his heart glow like the cooling embers of a dying fire. Juzell was all those things and yet… _It wasn’t enough_.

He’d needed someone to keep things from changing as the world flew off its orbit, someone who could put it back on its axis and send it spinning back around the Sun. A single day wasn’t enough to go on, but he was firm in the belief that Juzell could’ve have given him those things, but perhaps… he’d been wrong. Perhaps those weren’t the things he needed. Perhaps he didn’t need someone to put his world back in orbit, but to keep him firmly on the new one. He needed gravity… He needed someone… like Keith.

Lance wanted to punch something. He’d gone on that date to get over Keith, and now Keith was all he could think about.

Ever since he’d been thrown into space on this whirlwind grand adventure, nothing had stayed the same, and everything he knew was thrown out of alignment.

He needed someone to be his gravity, to keep him tied to his world as it went flying off into deep space, and Keith Kogane could give him that.

He found himself stopping outside of Keith’s bedroom door, pausing in the walk to his own, eyes catching the glimpse of the sliver of teal light peeking out into the dark hallway. Cocking his head in confusion, he rapped his knuckled against the metal door, the _thud, thud, thud_ reverberating dully throught the small room, and all it took was a little give before it slid the rest of the way open.

“Keith?” Lance peered curiously inside, straining against the darkness to see.

A lamp sat on the ground at the foot of the bed, casting a warm teal glow around the room and illuminating the pale form stretched out over the blankets. Keith had stripped down to a black shirt and boxers, limps reaching for all four corners of the room, hair falling over his face like a curtain. Chest rising and falling, he was fast asleep. The sight struck Lance cold because his teammate didn’t exactly look _comfortable._

Keith looked as exhausted as Lance felt, even in sleep. Dark shadows kissing the skin beneath his eyes, face drawn and pale, lips pursed in a small frown and a furrow between his eyebrows—Keith looked downright miserable, and Lance, though he didn’t know why, couldn’t help but feel like it was all his fault. Perhaps, he thought to himself, he should talk to Keith about everything in the morning.

He made a move to leave when he suddenly became aware of the chill in the room, and the realization made him pause and turn back to Keith, who laid on that bed atop the sheets, no doubt waking later on during the night to the cold draft, shivering and uncomfortable as he tried to fall back into a restless sleep. _I can never get to sleep here_ , he’d told Lance over a bowl of space goo with a wry smile. Lance didn’t want him to wake up. Keith needed his sleep; he never got enough anyway.

With a sigh, he shrugged his Garrison jacket off and placed it over Keith’s torso, hoping that it’d at least give some comfort from the chill. He gently extracted a sheet from the foot of the bed and tucked it around Keith’s lower body, and he wished he could do more. But he wasn’t a ninjga like Shiro or Keith—moving blankets around to get Keith situated might wake him up, and that’s the one thing Lance refused to do.

Satisfied with his work, Lance shoved his hands in his jean pockets and cast a soft glance back at Keith. It would have to do, he supposed, and turned to take his leave.

He had a lot to think about.

…Perhaps it was time to talk to Keith tomorrow.

*

It wasn’t until the middle of the night that Lance woke up with a start.

“Oh shit,” he spoke aloud to the dark room. “I left him a message.”


End file.
